Those Time Left Behind
by zoegays
Summary: In one moment, everything we know as life; civilization; everything mankind has worked for, could be destroyed. For Clarke Griffin, it was just her and her mother against the world, until the world turned on man and survival became the sole priority of those left behind. As the outbreak of an unknown disease causes chaos in every direction, a stranger becomes the key to surviving.


**Hello, readers! My name is Zoe, I have to say that I haven't written any FF in a long, long time but after seeing The 100 and seeing how much potential Clarke and Lexa had, it got me wanting to write again! Now this is my first Clexa story and it's also got some horror elements due to my slight obsession with the horror genre, but it's been a fun story to plan out, regardless! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy Chapter 1 of hopefully a 20 part story!**

 **Chapter 1**

It was late when the sharp noise of a severe storm alert blared from the cell phone sitting atop of the wooden nightstand. The brightness of the screen brought light into the previously pitch dark room. A slender hand reached out to pick up the phone and swipe away the weather alert that occupied the screen. With a groan, the owner of the phone placed the device back down before she rolled over to face the other wall, trying to will herself back into the deep sleep she had been so abruptly pulled out of. After a long moment of sitting in silence, a large rumble bubbled up from outside, from the approaching storm. There was a jolt in the young woman's chest at the sound, and she sat up, trying not to feel too rattled, being in her apartment alone.

She sighed and brought up a hand to push her long blonde hair out of her face as she turned to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. It was late, and she dreaded the thought that she was due at school by 7 a.m. to take her final exams. It was her last year of college and she was anxious to get the last few weeks done and over with. Then she would be out in the world, teaching students all about art and drawing. The idea of being a teacher was enough on it's own to make her feel motivated, despite her nerves.

 _Don't let your mind make you scared to get things done, Clarke._ The voice of her father was an echo in her mind as she stood up after a stretch. She slowly made her way into the small kitchen for a glass of water. Another crash of thunder came, but this time it brought an intense, eerie sensation with it, crossing Clarke's spine as it did. She felt a chill come over her and she shook her head with a strained breath. Following the sound of thunder, as she sipped her water, she heard sirens outside and heard more rumbling, but not all of the rumbles felt quite like thunder. They didn't sound natural at all, for a fact.

Clarke was no stranger to being by herself, with her mother Abigail being a doctor and with her father being deceased, she was used to finding ways to feel less alone. She guessed that was why she loved art so much. Art and music; she lived to feel the strings of a guitar or a fresh piece of drawing paper under her fingers. She flicked the light on in the kitchen and went for the cabinet by the fridge to grab a mug for some hot tea. She retrieved her teapot from another cabinet and filled it with a bit of water and placed it on the stove to boil. She glanced at the thermostat after feeling a coldness overcome her body and she very quickly decided on throwing on a pair of her most favorite sweats. Upon entering the bedroom, she noticed her phone was illuminated again, only this time someone was calling her.

Feeling as if everything were suddenly off, she cautiously picked up her phone and noted the time, 4:12 a.m. Why would _anyone_ make a phone call at that time unless something were seriously wrong. That was all she could think as she read the name on the screen.

 _Mom is calling you._ The words stayed on the screen for the long pause Clarke took before Clarke got the nerve to swipe her screen and answer with a surprisingly soft, "Hello?"

"Oh Clarke, thank God." Abigail seemed as if she were desperate right off the bat, and it was already scaring the young woman.

"Mom…it's so late or uh, early, I guess," she began, trying to keep her cool. "What's the matter?" She asked, her hands starting to lightly sweat with anxiety. She could hear people shouting in the background from Abby's end of the line. Clarke tried to remember that hospitals can be pretty hectic some nights and she shouldn't worry so much.

"Clarke...Honey, come to the hospital, something's going on," Abby said vaguely, the desperation bleeding through her tone.

"Mom, it's 4 a.m, why do I need to come now? Can't this wait?" She asked, her gut in knots. Why was her mother being so vague and panicked? What was happening?

"Sweetheart, I _really_ can't explain I just—there's something going on in the city and a lot of people are coming in with some pretty serious symptoms and injuries and they're saying that whatever is going on is making it very unsafe to be in highly populated areas, but I'm supposed to get off in a few hours and then we are going to your grandmother's house for the day tomorrow until we know for sure what is happening," the older woman spoke quickly and in broken lines of speech. She sounded as if she were doing a million things at once and Clarke tried hard to catch everything her mom had said.

"You're scaring me. Why can't you just come here or something?" She asked, "Why do I need to come now?"

"Clarke. Please. Just come. I'm worried. I can't sit here knowing you're by yourself when it's not safe out there. Just please come? You can sit in my office and sleep on the couch until I'm off and we'll figure this out an—," Abby's sentence was cut short by a blood curdling scream from the background on the line and Clarke felt another jolt of anxiety. "Honey I—I have to go! Please just text me when you're on your way and just come on up to my office. They—hold on ma'am! Everything's going to be okay! —They need me now!" She said, again speaking in a rushed tone as she tried to calm whom Clarke assumed was a trauma patient.

"O—Okay, I'll get ready and then I'll leave, I love you!" Clarke said back, just as hastily, but there was a click before she was even done speaking and she knew her mother had hung up. Her hands shook lightly as she put her phone down and tried to figure out what all to do before she left. She grabbed her duffel bag from her closet and filled it with a few of her favorite clothes to wear. She made sure to grab her sketchbook and her nice drawing set from the easel in the corner of the room and tucked them into her backpack. She also made sure to grab her toiletries and a couple of books to read before she felt she had the necessities. She picked up her phone, making sure to get the charger, and sent a quick, _On my way_ , to Abigail, who soon replied with, _See you soon!_

Clarke took the stairs three flights down to the ground floor and didn't see the doorman in his usual spot. Even at this hour, a doorman always stood watch over her building, but not tonight. She made it out to her car, an old VW station wagon, and took off for the Polis Hospital, which was only a ten minute drive. As she drove towards downtown Polis, she quickly noticed the higher-than-usual volume of traffic for this time of night. Polis was a fairly big and growing city, but not so big that there were normally a lot of cars out past 2 a.m. Clarke furrowed her brow with worry as she inched her way through traffic and finally pulled into the parking garage connected to the hospital. She drove up a couple of levels and found a parking spot close to the bridge that would take her to the hospital. She gathered her two bags and got out as thunder rumbled once again, loud enough to spook her.

The parking garage was silent, besides the sounds of weather and distant sirens; it was seemingly dead as she walked quickly in the direction of the walkway.

When she made it across to the front desk area, the secretaries seemed in a frantic rush, searching for patient files and holding phones to their ears, talking to an endless amount of upset people over the phone. Clarke wondered if she had ever known the hospital to be this overwhelmed with ER patients before. The thought was rattling to her and made her gut twist and turn. She walked past the front desk and to the elevators, pressing the 4 button once she got inside, next to a worried looking black man, who's only outstanding feature was his silvery gray goatee, which he had been stroking in an act of impatience for the elevator.

"Hi," Clarke said politely, "going up?"

"Yeah, yeah…level 5." The man nodded and kept his answer short. Clarke nodded and waited for the doors to close, before the lift finally ascended upwards. The blonde shuffled her feet around as they stood in silence, and after what seemed like eternity, the elevator stopped on level 4 and the doors slid open. When they did fully open, Clarke almost wanted to shut them again. Trauma patients were all around her and the sense of panic in the air was almost overwhelming.

She stepped out of the elevator with caution and she looked left, then right. Nurses ran up and down the halls frantically, trying to get to all of their patients as soon as they could. A man holding blood soaked gauze over his collarbone sat in one of the waiting area chairs, his face looking color-drained and sweaty. Bags under his eyes made him look like he hadn't slept in weeks, and he had a sharp cough that would occur every 15 to 20 seconds. Clarke immediately wondered why he hadn't been treated yet. This was the trauma floor after all, and he looked like he just might die in his seat. She scurried past the waiting area and down the busy hallway, which included a room that when Clarke walked by, all she could see was a woman flailing and screaming on a bed, being held down by several nurses. It made Clarke swallow hard as her pace increased.

She turned the corner to the hall where Abby's office was located and she let out a breath when she spotted her mother at the end of the hall, her green scrubs tainted with dark colored blood and her hair matted with sweat. She was talking to a concerned-looking nurse when she caught a glimpse of Clarke and she ran right over and pulled the girl into her arms.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so glad you made it. I've gotta run to another surgery, honey, just go to my office, please," Abby said, rushed to get to her next priority.

"Mom I—what's happening here?" Clarke looked around the hallway.

"We will talk as soon as I'm through!" Abby explained, ignoring the question and kissing Clarke on the forehead before hurrying off down the hallway towards surgery. Clarke nodded, pressing her lips together as she turned around and made her way towards Abigail's large office. She closed the door behind her and plopped her bags down on the floor next to the sofa before plopping herself onto the cushions with a sigh. She decided it was best to just try and get some sleep. She pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch and situated the pillow to lay her head down. She took a minute to get comfortable, but as soon as she did, she felt her sleepiness return. Just as she was about to fall asleep, there were screams from outside the office.

She froze with fear as loud banging thudded from the hallway and she heard rapid footsteps moving about. She stood up and slowly moved to rest her ear against the wooden door. It was quiet now, but she still heard small movement happening outside the door, it was just barely too quiet to make out. She let curiosity get the best of her as she opened the door about half way. Clarke felt fear paralyze her in her tracks. The man from the waiting room was now seemingly on his feet, snarling, and crouched over one of the nurses she'd seen moments ago. A pool of blood was forming around his feet and Clarke's mouth opened in horror as she realized he was the cause of the blood on the floor. He was biting into the flesh of the nurse's neck, as her barely-breathing body, seized and jerked in what Clarke could only assume was pain. She couldn't take her eyes away, somehow, as the man snarled and tore at the flesh below him. Clarke must have made a sound because in an instant, the man's head jerked up towards her, her eyes meeting with his deranged, bloodshot and cloudy eyes. His gaze seemed inhuman and empty, but full of rage all at once and with a growl, he lurched upward and started running for the office door. In a panic, Clark screamed and swung the door shut as fast as she could, but the man was faster.

The first limb he threw in the way of the door was his arm, which looked gray and bruised, almost. His hand pushed against the wall as he tried to force his way into the office, with Clarke using all of her weight to keep the door from flying open. She could feel hopelessness creeping up on her and she wished she knew where her mom was at that moment. By then the man had managed to poke his semi-bald head through the door, never ceasing to stop growling and snarling in Clarke's direction, a primal hunger and rage behind his eyes.

Just as she was almost unable to hold him off any more, another set of footsteps could be heard rushing up from outside the office and suddenly, there was a sharp _thud_ , and the man went limp, his body sliding down the door and onto the cold tile floor. Clarke hesitated before backing up and carefully peeking out of the door. First she glanced at the dead man before her, and then at the person who had killed him. She was a tall, dark haired woman, probably close to Clarke's age. She had a neutral expression on her beautiful, long face, which was dominated by a pair of emerald eyes. In her hands, she wielded an axe from one of the emergency fire hose boxes located all over the building. She looked at Clarke just as intently as the blonde was looking at her.

"You can say thank you any time," the brunette spoke, her voice a murmur, an eyebrow cocked. Clarke opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out, as her savior continued, "Are you alone, blondie?" She asked, seeming impatient.  
"No—I mean, yes. I mean—uh, my mom's a surgeon here…I hope she's around somewhere. She uh, she made me come here because of whatever is happening." Clarke was stammering, half out of shock, and half because the woman before her was making it hard to formulate a sentence. Then she looked at the man on the floor. "You killed him…" She added, not out of fear, but confusion. He had been struggling to stay awake mere minutes before he attacked that nurse, who also lay dead on the floor.

The taller girl ignored Clarkes last statement, "We can look for her, but we must hurry, do you understand?" The girl asked firmly. Clarke nodded and grabbed her things once again before stepping out of the office.

"What the hell is going on, exactly?" Clarke asked, falling into step with the stranger, "Who are you?"

"Too many questions right now. Where was your mom last going when you saw her?" The mysterious woman asked, getting right to it.

"Uh…surgery, I'm pretty sure. H-her name is Abigal," Clarke answered, thrown off by having her questions ignored.

"Do you know how to get there?" The stranger asked, stopping at a 4-way intersection in the hall. Clarke merely nodded and pointed down one of the halls and followed her rescuer to the end before they headed right, straight to the surgery wing.

There were a few nurses and doctors still trying to scramble about but most people in this area were either unusually calm or unusually frantic. The stranger ignored them, it seemed as she walked down the hall with a hard expression that Clarke was finding ever more intimidating.

"I don't know what area she would be in…" Clarke said lamely, pushing a door open to the first room they passed to try and see if there was anyone familiar around.

"Lexa." The stranger said suddenly and abruptly.

"What are you talking about?" Clarke asked, stopping in the middle of the hall.

The stranger stopped, too, and looked back over her shoulder at Clarke, "My name is Lexa."

"Lexa," she repeated to herself, "Well, thank you Lexa. My mother's name is Abigail, she's blonde, like me, and very uh...young looking?"

"Now that I know your mother's name, what's yours?" Lexa asked, a small smile daring to cross her otherwise hard features.

Clarke looked down, a little embarrassed that she hadn't introduced herself at all. "Clarke. Clarke Griffin." She said, pressing her lips together, anticipating Lexa's reaction.

"Nice to meet you. Now, what do you say we go find Abigail, hm?" She asked, starting back down the hallway. Clarke was quick to follow her.

"Please," she agreed, but mostly talking to herself. Just as they were ready to move into the first room on the left, there was a loud shriek from down the hall that made Clark jump. Looking at one another, the two young women moved quickly down the hall towards the sound. They had to find Abigail.


End file.
